


You’ll save me next time

by SharaMichaels



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, Minor Injuries, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5794651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharaMichaels/pseuds/SharaMichaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Considering the fact he had to swim an entire lake and then hang in a noose for ten minutes, the idea that Raoul is strong enough to stand up in a boat and row at the end of Final Lair is a bit unrealistic. So here’s an alternate version of the ending of ALW’s Phantom of the Opera, where Christine is the one rowing the boat away from the phantom’s lair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You’ll save me next time

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. English is not my native language. Also I have no idea how English worked in the last century.  
> 2\. Finding sympathy for the phantom is very hard for me and I could have tried harder.  
> 3\. This is as r/c as it can get. If all you've ever wanted was a happy ending for Erik, you probably don't want to read this.  
> 4\. I'm aware of cheesy this sounds in certain passages. Just embrace it.

 

_Go! Go now, swear to me never to tell!_

She wouldn’t move. She stood rooted on her spot, watching that man, that _creature_ in front of them yelling and twisting his hands in contained anger. His fingers fastened on her wrist. He would let himself be hung again before he allowed the other to tear them apart.

„Christine...” he told himself he’d wait a lifetime if that was what it took for her to love him, but in that very moment he would have rather waited someplace else. His voice was barely a whisper, but she seemed to have heard; with her heart, if not with her ears. She turned to him with a shudder, as if she’d woken up from a trance, just as the monster rushed towards them, repeating his frightening cry.  

_Go now! Go now and leave me!_

The corridor opened in front of them as they run for daylight and it seemed to be stretching endlessly. Their hands were glued together, the blood rushing through their veins and the pulse beating in unison. He was running up front, searching the walls with his free hand, signalling the bumps and holes in the pavement to her. Suddenly, she stopped, panting, and looked in dilemma.  

He turned around and asked impatiently:  

“What’s the matter, Christine? What’s wrong? Come on, we have to go! I know it’s exhausting, but I promise we’ll rest when we reach the surface!”  

She looked at him with the same vacant expression she had six months ago, when he first learned about the opera ghost, there, on the rooftop of the opera house. She was looking at him but thinking about her _angel_.   

“Raoul, I have to go back.”  

“What? No! You are… you are free now! It’s over, you don’t have to go back, you never have to go back, just like I promised you!”  

“Look, Raoul, you don’t understand. I didn’t say good bye! I have to go and say good bye properly; I need to give him closure, I owe him this much.”  

She kept her palm on his cheek for a second, as if she was debating whether to lean in for a kiss or not. Eventually she decided against it.  

“Wait for me, Raoul! I’ll be back shortly.”  

He felt a stab in his heart when she pulled her hand apart from his and started back in an alert pace.  

 ***

Something was tugging at Raoul’s shoulder. He opened his eyes only to see Christine’s serene face bowed over him.  

“Darling, you seem to have fallen asleep. I’d love to let you rest, but I’m afraid you might catch a cold here.”  

His expression was one of great confusion in the pale light of a nearby torch. Christine smiled peacefully and presented him her hands, with a childish gesture.  

“I went to say good bye, just like I told you. I gave him back the ring he put on my finger at the end of the performance. See? A ring like that is the sign of a bound, and I want no such thing from him.” She pulled him by the arms, helping him stand up, then she put out her left hand again and they looked at the bare fingers in silence. “My hand belongs to you now and yours” she added, gripping his palm and laying it on her heart “belongs to me.”  

A moment not longer than a breath passed before she took the lead and ran forwards. Soon they reached the lake and begun to untie the boat. The boat was a sign that the exit was not far and the comforting thought of being close to freedom calmed the young viscount greatly. His heart found its normal pace and the muscles relaxed; unfortunately, in the place of adrenaline came a sudden and overwhelming exhaustion. He reeled back and would’ve fallen, if Christine hadn’t been there to catch him.  

“What’s wrong? Is everything all right? Is there something wrong?”  

He tried to shake it off, but his feet wobbled and his head was in a spin. The effort of swimming the whole length of the lake combined with the struggle to free himself from the noose took a toll on his body. The strength was quickly draining from him.  

“Darling, it’s all right, I’ll hold you.”  

How long will she have to keep saving him? He felt his cheeks flush at the thought of being a constant burden. Christine noticed and chuckled.  

“You’ll save me next time.”  

She put him down in the boat in what was more or less a controlled fall, then jumped in and grabbed the paddle. As she turned around to unleash the boat from the pier, Raoul stretched on the soft pillows and touched his neck; the skin where the noose gripped was tender and hurting. When he looked up at Christine, she was sitting at the other end of the boat, with the paddle in her hands, focused on remembering the moves required for rowing. Their eyes locked and their hearts filled both at once with immense pity and concern for the other.  

“Oh, Raoul, are you hurting?”  

She leaned over him, gently stroking his neck with the tip of her trembling fingers, terrified she might cause him even more pain.   

“No, I’m all right, I’m all right” he assured, pulling her down in a clumsy embrace. “Christine, this is not right, let _me_ take _you_ away from here! I feel better now, I can row! You should lay here among these pillows, like a... like a _countess_! Come here, let _me_ do the work.”   

She held herself over him and wouldn’t let him get up.  

“Hush, dear. It’s not as complicated as it looks. I’m telling you I can handle it. I’m not tired at all, not one bit! You just stay here and rest.”  

“Oh, Christine…”  

An immense love for the woman hanging above him came over his chest. He drew her closer and pressed his lips over hers, then over her cheeks, over her chin, searching for every bit of exposed skin he could find. Christine laid above him, with one hand tethered on the edge of the boat and the other buried in her lover’s arm. The warmth of his breath against her skin calmed down her senses, rested the blood in her veins, slowed down the pace of her pulse. She felt a sweet slumber closing in on her and her eyelids grew heavier. Raoul laid his cheek on hers and she had to fight hard the yearning to curl beside him and sleep.   

“Raoul, we have to go.”  

She pulled herself from his grip and stood up at the end of the boat, with the paddle in her hands. She had seen the phantom do the movements enough times to learn how to do them herself. She pushed the paddle with all her strength and, when the boat moved at a considerate speed, she smiled, happy to see it was nothing that exceeded her capabilities. Raoul was watching her from beneath with a look of absolute adoration painted on his face. She weaved the boat harder and leaned back, enjoying the draught of the tunnels on her face, with her eyes closed, imagining they were sailing the great seas of the outside world. Raoul reached for her hand and pressed yet another kiss on the back of her palm.  

Suddenly, the echo of a desperate cry travelled to their ears. Christine turned her head towards the sound and there, through the openings of a gate, she could see her angel of music knelt on the floor, clutching her wedding veil and sobbing. She stopped to listen and a shudder shoot through her body; a strange mixture of pity and guilt was starting in her heart and an impulse to go back suddenly hit her.   

 _No,_ she thought to herself _. If I go back now, I’ll never be free again. And it’s too late anyway, it’s too late…_

“Christine?...”  

She glanced down. Her _fiancé_ was laying at her feet, hurt at the hand of the very man who posed as her friend and mentor. As kind as she was, she could hardly even deem him pitiful anymore, yet he still had the nerve to demand her love. The façade was collapsing around the angel of music, who let out another heart wrenching sob. But this time Christine turned her head away from him; she knew she’d given him as much as she could have. She found Raoul’s eyes and drew strength from their loving gaze, pushing the boat away from the sight. And then, in the midst of all the horrors and all that darkness, she felt a sudden desire to yell her love, as loud as she could and to whoever might listen, a desire to spend her life singing constantly, singing for the world and for the man sprawled among the pillows in front of her.  

“Say you’ll share with me one love, one life time…”  

Although taken aback at first, Raoul recognized the tune of his very proposal, which had always been an oasis of happiness in that ocean of despair that had been their relationship so far.  

“Say the word and I will follow you…”  

The words rolled out of their mouths louder and louder while the boat moved farther and farther and, slowly but surely, without them even noticing, the cries of the one who had once been the phantom of the opera drowned in the silence of the catacombs.  


End file.
